


Heart Thief

by Fire_Bear



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (but not really important), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pirates, Princes & Princesses, Prophecy, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: The prince of Mac'eria is to marry a princess from a nearby country, joining their impressive navies. However, Captain Kirkland has a plan.Whether that plan is to benefit all pirates or himself is another question entirely...





	Heart Thief

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the scene in the brig, so...
> 
> Anyways, this is for Artie's birthday. :)

_“Hi, Artie!”_

_"You?! What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the smithy?”_

_“Probably. But I wanted to come see you so I begged for a break.”_

_“Don’t grin like you’re clever, idiot. You should get back there - you’re supposed to be learning a trade!”_

_“Aw, Artie, you’re worried about me!”_

_"_ _Oh, shut up. Anyway, I’m busy. Come back later._

_“Really?” A grin, wide and blinding._

_Realisation. “D-Don’t look into it that much!”_

_“See ya later, Artie!”_

_Heart pangs, breathlessness, cheeks hot. “Y-Yeah…”_

* * *

“Did you hear?” said a sailor sitting near a shadowed corner of a tavern. “The prince of Mac’eria is going to marry the princess of Lic’stiw.”

“Woah, really?” said his companion, perhaps a sailor from another ship. “That would mean two of the world’s largest navies are going to combine!”

“Imagine how bad that’ll be for the pirates,” said the first man with a hearty laugh.

“The ship I’m on won’t be raided every time we set out!”

“Just _imagine_ it!” the first sailor cried, getting progressively louder with each swig of his ale. “A world without pirates!”

“Shush!” said a woman who was sitting with her friends, glaring at them all. “There could be some of them around here right now!”

All of the people who had heard this conversation looked around, peering into each corner. Nothing could be seen there and they all relaxed. The illusion of safety made another woman speak up. “Won’t this put the bounty hunters out of business?”

“Nah,” said the second man. “There’ll always be someone to commit a crime and run.”

“Hear, hear,” said the first sailor.

“But will the pirates try to do something about it?” said a third woman, running her fingers through long, brown locks.

Both sailors snorted. “They’re cowards; none of them will go up against a _royal family_.”

A screeching noise stopped them; a chair being pushed back. Every one of them turned their heads to stare at the nearest corner. Captain Kirkland smirked as he stepped out of the shadows, eyeing each of them, watching their eyes widen. He looked every inch the pirate captain: long, non-military, bottle-green coat; knee high boots with slight heels, the wide fit of them perfect for hiding knives in; gold plundered from many raids and ships on his wrists and around his neck; broad hat with sweeping feathers sticking in the brim. All of the gossips stared at him, horror growing on their faces.

“Thank you for the information,” he said and stalked from the inn.

* * *

The _Floating Unicorn_ cut through the waters, as silent as a predator stalking its prey. Horn pointed at its destination, the waves parted for it. Above it, the moonlight provided enough light to see by, forming a hulking shadow out of the _Unicorn_ as it approached the harbour wall. Everyone aboard stayed still and silent, the city beyond quiet for the night, lights burning in houses and smoke wafting up towards the stars above. Unsuspecting families were laying down to sleep, some wrapped in thin, fraying blankets; others were snug in fancy beds, draped in the finest materials money could by. Towering over the scene was the castle, presumably guarded well by its King’s Guard. Tiny dots of lights were all that could be seen of the windows. On the highest tower, the flag of Mac’eria fluttered in the slight breeze.

Then, with a shout of “Weigh anchor!” the peace was shattered.

Roaring, pirates leapt from the rigging to the harbour walls. None missed, all of them used to this sort of raid after weeks, months, years of the same practice. Every single man scrambled over the stone, landing lightly on their feet before dashing away, forcing aside any guards that were keeping watch. Once they reached the city’s edge, they parted ways, kicking open doors and dragging out provisions. Some of them, however, made their way further in, heading for the richer parts of the city, aiming for the nobles and their stacks of gold and silver and silks.

Under the cover of this uproar, a rowboat drew up at a free space at the wooden dock. An impressive figure stepped out of it, hat firmly upon his head, feathers sweeping through the air as he turned to watch his men do their work. Pleased, Captain Kirkland grinned and began to stroll through the city, unconcerned. What amounted to a small personal guard consisting of three men kept watch for him, following in his wake. Whenever a member of the public attempted to attack Kirkland, they darted forward and intercepted them, leaving them unconscious on the ground.

Arthur looked around him with interest, noting changes to what he had seen the last time he’d been there. Of course, none of it helped the city against pirates, just as he’d known it wouldn’t. Smirking, he wove through the streets, headed ever inwards. Around him, his men fought with those who wanted to protect their livelihoods or their families. There was no need for that but Arthur commended their efforts.

Eventually, Arthur came to a quiet courtyard, abandoned for the night. A fountain let water trickle from a raised watering can, the stone child carrying it on the shoulders of another. Flowers were nestled in window boxes, their sweet scents carrying on the breeze. A lot of the windows had been shuttered, perhaps due to the attack.

At least, Arthur presumed the courtyard was usually quiet. Now, there was the clang of metal on metal, the report of pistols and rifles being fired. Shouts sounded as several guards clashed with the pirates. Arthur raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been expecting the Mac’erians to muster so quickly.

His attention was caught by one man who was without armour or helmet, sword out and battling with some of the best of Arthur’s men. Whoever it was seemed to be wearing fancy clothes. Part of the stitching glinted in the moonlight and Arthur realised that it was gold. Clearly, this was a noble who had been woken by the attack or waylaid on his way home. Arthur’s smirk grew into a smug grin and he raised a hand to point at the man. With whoops and hollers, his ‘guard’ dashed forward to engage him, purposely drawing him towards Arthur and away from the King’s Guard. While they did that, Arthur stepped backwards, merging with the shadows to watch their approach.

They drew him away, further and further into the darkness. Arthur led the way, taking them to a smaller, more secluded courtyard. There, a window had been left open, a candle still burning on the sill. It sent a shaft of light across the empty space, a wedge crowded by the shadows. Standing in one of them, Arthur watched his men draw the nobleman closer. Finally, with the man separated from any help, Arthur’s sailors went into action.

Since they had been focussed on separating him from the others, they had been making feeble attacks, enticing the man into thinking he had a chance if he pushed forward. Now, the three of them pressed in, trying to disarm him. The nobleman, however, was very good with a blade and actually disarmed two of Arthur’s men, injuring them in the process. Thankfully, the cuts to their arms and torsos were minor and they were able to snatch up their weapons again, attacking when the third one lost his grip.

Sighing, Arthur folded his arms and tapped his foot. Would he have to take over? He had no desire to be seen as they were trying to do this without the country knowing who had attacked them. Better to have them sailing after those who repeatedly raided Mac’eria rather than Arthur and his crew.

Thankfully, though they had been fighting honourably for a while, Arthur’s men would always win, especially with their ‘unfair’ tactics. One of them hooked the nobleman’s ankle with his and, with a push on his blade, sent the man stumbling backwards. He staggered into the light, off-balanced enough that another sailor pressed the advantage. In the instant that he was clearly visible, Arthur’s eyes widened.

Blond hair. Blue eyes. A familiar face. There was probably a tuft of hair sticking straight up.

Pressing his lips together in order to keep from gasping, Arthur took a deep breath. He cleared his throat, attracting the attention of his men who, knowing he was there, squinted enough to see him pointing at the man. Meanwhile, the nobleman looked around, seemingly trying to see if someone had come to his aid.

Unfortunately for him, that was not the case as, with his attention diverted, a sailor used the hilt of his sword to smack him sharply on the back of his head. The nobleman grunted and swayed for a moment before toppling forward, sword falling from his hand. It clattered on the cobblestones as the strongest man in the trio grabbed him around the waist to keep him upright.

“Cap’n?” said one of the men.

“Take him to the ship,” Arthur told him. “In the brig. If anyone else has managed to grab a noble, tell them to dump them. We don’t need ’em. And we’re leaving - signal the rest of ’em.”

“Yessir!” chorussed his men, raising hands in sloppy salutes. Arthur didn’t care about that, merely turning and disappearing into the shadows to stroll back to his precious ship and the rest of his crew.

* * *

By the next morning, the _Unicorn_ was far from the city, out of sight of land and gaining speed as a strong wind blew. Sun shone down from a clear sky, entering the bowels of the ship through various portholes, the light slanting through the darkness. Shadows were prevalent here and only held at bay by dripping candles attached firmly to the walls.

Morning also found Arthur sitting on a half-filled barrel in the brig, staring at the criss-crossed metal of the prison cell they had. It was a small thing since they didn’t take many people alive unless they wanted to be on the crew. All that was in it was a lump covered in a blanket. A small pool of water was at the other side of the space. Half of a porthole allowed the sunlight to brighten up the cell, though there wasn’t much.

After what felt like too long a time, the bundle stirred and pushed itself upright, revealing the blond nobleman from the night before. Mostly hidden in the shadows, Arthur let him get his bearings - it would be no fun talking to him when he was confused and muddled from unconsciousness. It took him a while: the man splashed around, seemingly panicked as he pieced together what had happened.

“You should have stayed in the smithy,” Arthur said, catching the man’s attention immediately. When he squinted at Arthur, trying to make him out, the pirate took pity on him and leaned forward, bringing himself into the candlelight.

Eyes widening, the man stumbled forward, catching hold of the bars. “A-Arthur? Is that you?” he exclaimed, just as loud as ever. His voice was deeper now, smoother and easier on the ears. Mentally shaking himself, Arthur tried not to scowl.

“I go by Captain Kirkland now,” he told the man, nonchalantly.

Blinking, the man slowly smiled. “‘Captain’, huh? That’s amazing. I was-”

“Alfred.” Arthur waited until it dawned on him that something wasn’t right, that this wasn’t a reunion. “Don’t talk to me like you know me.”

“What… What are you talking about?” Alfred demanded, jerking on the bars and making them clang.

“Don’t be stupid, Al,” Arthur snapped, forgetting himself for a moment. “I’m a _pirate_. Your father’s quite vocal against them, isn’t he?”

That made Alfred pause, lips parting in his surprise. Arthur had to take a deep breath when he noticed, forcing himself to keep his irritated expression. Eventually, Alfred found his voice again, nervously licking his lips before he spoke. “A… Arthur. Is this-? Did you…?” He stopped and took a breath, Arthur raising his eyebrow in a silent question. “You disappeared,” Alfred said, his tone an accusation.

“It wasn’t as if I had anything to keep me there,” Arthur told him, blassé.

“Nothing?”

“No,” said Arthur, firmly.

“Wha-? Arthur. I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”

Sighing, Arthur stood and stepped more fully into the light, revealing more of his clothes. He watched Alfred’s eyes widen, watched them flicker around the small space they were in, watched them refocus on him. Taking another step, Arthur hit the bars separating them. “For once in your life, Alfred, pay attention to your surroundings.”

For a moment, Alfred only stared. Then he straightened, standing tall and proud. Looking like the person he was, Alfred said, voice cool, “Why am I here? Why did you bring me here?”

“I didn’t touch you,” Arthur said, flippantly. “My men were the ones to gain the upper hand in that fight. They knocked you out and carried you here.”

“Answer the question,” Alfred ordered him. Arthur almost felt compelled to obey.

Snorting, Arthur turned from Alfred to stare at the flickering flame of the candle. “Ah,” he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the creaking of the ship and the slopping noise of the puddle of water. “There he is.”

“What?”

Arthur sent Alfred a glare. “There’s the _prince_.” The pirate captain spat the last word; it was said so venomously that Alfred flinched and drew back a little.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he eventually demanded.

Whirling on him, Arthur slammed a fist into the bars. His anger dulled the stinging pain, his heart pounding in his chest. “You _lied_ to me,” he hissed, breathing heavily.

Alfred looked alarmed. “Artie…” he breathed. “I-I know that I-”

Before he could continue, Arthur barked a laugh and spun away from him. He raised a hand to brush it through his hair and stopped short with it covering his face, fingers spread. His hat stayed on his head, as it should. When Alfred said nothing else, Arthur turned his head slightly, eyeing him through his fingers. The precious little prince looked pained, as if a lady of the court had rejected his advances.

That thought made Arthur’s chest twinge.

“I might have forgiven you if you’d told me who you really were,” Arthur said, lowly. Alfred winced at his words but Arthur ignored the worry which shot through him. “You had plenty of chances to tell me.” He scoffed and dropped his hand. “I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t figure it out sooner. Do you know how many times I went to the various blacksmith’s looking for ‘their apprentice’?” Arthur shook his head, remembering all the times the men had looked perplexed and said it must be another smithy that housed that apprentice. Every time he was turned away, disappointed, Arthur had worried - was Alfred okay? Should he ask the King’s Guard for help? Then, the next day, Alfred would turn up, bright and cheerful.

He continued to do that until the day the King’s Guard descended upon them at the docks where Arthur was trying to earn a meagre living by helping the harbour master. Deluded into thinking Alfred was just another orphan, Arthur had been appalled to see them appear behind the boy, heavy hands descending on his shoulder. Arthur was ready to defend him, to protest, to pull Alfred away and run. Then the guards said those fatal words.

‘Your Highness’.

The correct way to address the prince, whose father was concerned about him and wished to find the wayward boy. Arthur had been so shocked that he could only watch as Alfred hurried off with them. His prince hadn’t bothered to do more than grimace apologetically at Arthur before he left. There had been no explanation - only a realisation which still hurt Arthur to this day. It had prompted him to leave, sneaking onto a ship that turned out to be a pirate ship in disguise. Now, after many years, Arthur had managed to get his own ship and crew, spreading the name of Kirkland (a name he had stolen) in infamy.

“I…” Alfred began, sounding uncertain. _How un-prince-like,_ Arthur thought with a snort of derision. Alfred frowned at the sound but forged onwards. “I didn’t want you treat me…. well, different from how you treated everyone else your age.”

“Really?” Arthur scoffed again. “You’re going with _that_?”

“Look,” said Alfred, starting to sound a little desperate. “The day we met, I was trying to hide the fact that I’d snuck out of the palace. When I met up with you the second time, I didn’t want to lose the-the _joy_ , I suppose, that I got from being with you. So I just never explained it. I hoped that I’d never have to. And then…”

“And then you had your secret exposed,” Arthur said, lip curling. “You didn’t even bother sending a message.”

“I didn’t get the chance to!” Alfred protested, frowning at him. “A certain person _disappeared_ without a word. When I couldn’t find you…”

Somehow, that aborted sentence seemed to shift the atmosphere in a direction that Arthur was not prepared to go down, not now. “Well, now you know where I’ve been. Are you going to attempt to apologise now?”

“I’m sorry,” said Alfred, immediately. He held Arthur’s gaze, expression determined and open, waiting for forgiveness. Arthur turned away from him, pacing to and fro.

“That’s worthless now,” he told Alfred. “Anyway, what does it matter? What do _I_ matter?”

“You-”

Arthur cut him off. “You have a lovely fiancée. I know - I’ve seen her. Princess Lili will make you a beautiful wife.”

There was a pause which made Arthur look up. Alfred looked consternated. “That’s political,” he said, as if his words meant anything.

Perhaps they did.

Ignoring them, Arthur turned fully back towards him. Lifting his chin, he smirked. “Well, it won’t happen now. If Mac’eria and Lic’stiw were to be united… Why, we pirates would be in a precarious position, wouldn’t we?”

Alfred’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in his shock. “Is that why… Is that why you attacked the capital?” he asked. Arthur noticed, with some dark amusement, the way he avoided asking the question he really wanted the answer to. He would get what he so desperately wanted in due time.

“Hm,” said Arthur in answer. “What better way to stop a marriage than kidnapping some high-ranking noble?” Snorting, Arthur leaned forward, curling his fingers around the bars, his hand close to Alfred’s. “And here I got a prince instead. Not just any prince, either - _the_ prince. Thank you for being such a naive, careless idiot.” Arthur smirked at Alfred, delighting in the rage he saw building within the royal.

“I was defending my people,” Alfred said in a low voice. It was almost a growl and Arthur delighted in it.

“And you did an admirable job,” said Arthur, smugly. “After all, if I hadn’t seen you, we would have taken a handful of nobles away with us. We left them on the docks for someone to collect.”

For some reason, Alfred gasped. “You… Did you…?”

“Did I what? Speak clearly.”

Looking at him with a mix of shock and horror, Alfred said, barely above a whisper, “Did you kill them?”

Since he’d somewhat expected that, Arthur gave away nothing. People often made assumptions like that but he never corrected them, one way or the other. Instead, Arthur shrugged a shoulder. “Does it matter? After all, we’ve stopped the wedding, just as we wanted.”

“You…”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get three meals a day. We planned to have more prisoners, you see,” Arthur explained, “so the ship is well stocked. At least, you’ll get three meals a day for as long as you’re on this ship. As for-”

“Artie.” Alfred was frowning at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. Arthur raised an eyebrow and that only seemed to make the prince more irritated. “Did you really come to the capital just for this?”

“Why else would I-?”

“I’ve heard stories,” Alfred continued, ignoring him for the moment. “Of Captain Kirkland. You’ve never once come anywhere near Mac’eria.”

“There were plenty of other places to attack,” Arthur replied, by way of explanation.

“Is that the only reason?” demanded Alfred, his grip tightening on the metal separating them. “Or were you avoiding your home country? Why would you care about the wedding-?”

Arthur kicked the barrier, hard. The clang echoed and shut Alfred up. Raising his eyes from the metal he’d been staring at, Arthur glared at him. “I can do what I want,” he hissed. “Just as I can leave you here to rot, if I want. Do not test me.”

Lip curled in disgust, Alfred ignored the threat. “Did you think it would bring you more infamy than you already have?” Alfred demanded. “Kidnapping nobles from their beds. Did you think people would talk about it far and wide? Is that the only reason you took me? Is that really the only reason you came home?”

The creaking of the ship filled the silence that descended on them. Arthur scowled at Alfred who glared back. Somehow, the fact that he was offended suddenly struck Arthur as amusing. Chuckling, he ducked his head, shaking it at how stupid Alfred was. Eventually, he raised his head again, his eyes meeting Alfred’s and staring at him.

“No,” Arthur admitted. Alfred seemed to brighten but Arthur didn’t let him revel in his relief for too long. “I came to take back something of mine.”

Alfred did not look pleased at that. “What are you talking about? You didn’t leave anything - when I looked for you, I didn’t find a trace.”

“Then you were looking in the wrong place, _Your Highness_.”

Flinching at the venomous tone, Alfred drew back, his eyes widening. “Wait. Did you… Did you mean _me_?”

“Did I?”

Stepping forward again, Alfred levelled a narrow-eyed gaze on Arthur. “I’m not _yours_ ,” he snapped. “I never was.”

Again, silence descended. From above, Arthur could hear his first mate shouting orders. Arthur ignored it, staring instead at his old friend. “I never said it was you,” Arthur whispered, tone dangerous.

“Then what are you talking about?” Alfred demanded. To Arthur, it sounded regal, as if he’d been practising his courtly arrogance in his absence.

Fury reared its head and Arthur slammed the end of a closed fist against the metal, the clang echoing. Alfred jolted in surprise but otherwise stood his ground, staring in shock at Arthur’s expression. “I came to take back what you stole from me,” Arthur growled.

“Wha-? I did no such thing!” protested Alfred.

This time, Arthur kicked the barrier, harder than before. He used his hand to push himself away, spinning away from Alfred. However, he turned his head in order to gaze coolly at Alfred, trying to show how little the next words he said were affecting him. Alfred stared back, eyes wide and mouth open, as if he was about to call Arthur back. He stopped, though, when he saw Arthur’s expression.

“You stole my heart,” Arthur told him, relishing the horrified expression forming on Alfred’s face. “And then you broke it - how could anyone but a princess interest our beloved prince?” Scoffing, Arthur stalked away from Alfred, making for the stairs. “That’s why I left. And that’s why you’ll never see me again.”

Ignoring Alfred’s calls to ‘wait’ and ‘come back’, Arthur made his way up the stairs. At the door, he stopped, taking several deep breaths. His men didn’t need to see him upset. Once he felt like he had everything under control, he threw the door open and exited the brig. After taking the steps two at a time, Arthur arrived on deck and made his way to the helm, the men scrubbing the deck or checking on the ropes pausing for sloppy salutes. Arthur nodded at them in return.

Standing at the wheel was Arthur’s First Mate, Gilbert. The man’s blond hair, bleached almost white with the sun, was covered by a red bandana. It seemed to match his oddly-coloured eyes and drew others to his intense gaze. Despite his plain clothes, he stood with an air of authority, much like Arthur did whenever he was on deck.

Gilbert looked Arthur up and down once the captain reached him. “I take it our prisoner’s awake?” he said.

“Yes,” said Arthur shortly, hoping to cut off the questions Arthur knew Gilbert had. “I made him aware of the situation.”

“Speaking of which, what _is_ the situation?” Gilbert raised a pale eyebrow as Arthur frowned at him. “I don’t know who that guy is but they’ll either come after us or he’ll escape from wherever we’re taking him and then he’ll lead them to us.”

“Not where we’re going to leave him.”

“What-?”

“Captain!” came a cry from across the ship. Arthur looked over to see young Peter, barely in his teens, rushing towards him, looking excited. The cabin boy took the steps up to the helm two at a time and skidded to a halt in front of them. “I’ve finished my morning duties!” Peter declared, giving Arthur a snappy salute; he was the only one on the ship who did them properly. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

“You’d better go down to the kitchen and ask Francis for food for the prisoner,” Arthur said with a sigh. “Try not to spill or drop anything…”

“Yessir!” Peter yelled, making both Arthur and Gilbert flinch. Before either of them could admonish him for it, he was hopping down the steps. Halfway down them, he leaped over the bannister, landed in a crouch and rushed off to the door which led below deck.

“Speaking of Francis, he’s still complaining about being trapped on the ship,” Gilbert drawled.

“Again? I’ve told him numerous times to just get off when we make port.” Arthur rubbed at his temples. “He’s the one who chooses to stay here.”

“Maybe you should just take the collar off,” suggested Gilbert, pulling out his compass. He flicked it open to consult it.

“Like I’ve told him _numerous times_ we’re not responsible for him. He can get it taken off at a blacksmith’s.” Arthur shoved aside the thoughts of Alfred as he spoke, aware that, had he been telling the truth all those years ago, he would have been able to do it for Francis and the cook would be free. Or, rather, he would be free from the vanity which kept him aboard ship, too concerned about being seen in the collar when he was no longer a slave.

Gilbert hummed as he turned the wheel ever so slightly. “By the way,” he said as he lifted his gaze to the horizon and shoved his compass into his pocket. “Where exactly are we headed? I’ve just been heading towards the furthest land from Mac’eria-”

“Steer us towards the Silania Island,” Arthur responded, gazing along the length of the ship, watching his men work. “We’ll leave our prisoner there.”

“The-? What?! Arthur, you can’t be _serious_!” Gilbert exclaimed. “There’s no way off that island! The whirlpools-”

“That’s the idea.” Arthur raised his gaze to the figurehead, barely visible from where he stood. “If he’s out of everyone’s way, I won’t have to hear about him.”

That made Gilbert turn away from the wheel completely. “Huh? Arthur… What-?” Gilbert paused; Arthur could see him searching Arthur’s face for an answer he likely knew wouldn’t be forthcoming. “Who do we have on our ship, Arthur?” Gilbert’s voice was barely audible above the sea and the wind and the creaking of the wood beneath their feet.

“It doesn’t matter. Just keep him fed and, when we reach the island, make sure he gets to shore. Leave him the customary supplies. I’ll be in my cabin when you transfer him so be careful. Don’t disturb me.” Having told Gilbert his orders, Arthur strolled away, heading out among his men to survey their work and take his mind off the man below him.

* * *

A year after the _Floating Unicorn_ had left the prince of Mac’eria on the Silania Island, Arthur had given his men shore leave for a week. He’d taken to spending his coin in taverns, drinking. After his actions had removed the prince from the political playing field, Arthur had expected the uproar that his kidnapping had inevitably caused. But, instead of dying down once Matthew, Alfred’s younger brother, was slated to marry Lili in his place, the talk of Alfred seemed to increase.

There was a prophecy, people whispered, one which spoke of the prince’s return. He would be lost, it had said, but he would return. However, despite his expectancy to take the throne, he would leave to search for something that he had lost on his journey.

Arthur had no idea what that could be, only that his plan had not worked. For years, he had tried his best to ignore the mentions of Mac’eria and its glorious prince. Each time he overheard people talking about his native home, his heart ached. Every time Alfred was brought up in particular, he had to steel himself in order to keep from breaking down. It had dulled over time but when he’d heard that he was to do exactly that which had broken him to begin with, Arthur had been determined to remove him from the spotlight, to prevent people’s interest in him, to keep their words at bay.

A group of people close to his shadowed corner table were currently debating what the prince, taken from the streets of Mac’eria’s capital, could possibly have lost. His sword wasn’t likely to have been given to him by the pirates who’d kidnapped him, after all. Arthur could confirm their reasoning as it was currently locked in the trunk in his cabin. According to the group, they’d heard varying stories on whether he was wearing his prince’s coronet or circlet or tiara, depending on which person was talking. Apparently, the prince was widely known for not wearing any jewellery. What, then, could he possibly have lost?

Surely, Arthur thought as he finished off his second drink, if that was the case, the prophecy was talking about another Mac’erian prince.

Hating that he was thinking of Alfred once again, Arthur slammed his tankard on the table. It startled the group who all swung, in various states of drunkenness, to look in his direction. Ignoring them, Arthur stood, threw a coin on the table and stepped from the shadows. Seeing his clothes, they raised eyebrows. Arthur glared at them and wordlessly left, deciding to find something else to occupy his time in the city.

Outside, the moon shone down again, just as it had the night they’d taken Alfred. This city, however, was busy. People went to and fro, singing drunkenly or laughing loudly. Arthur spotted a woman clinging to a man who was kissing her noisily. His lip curled and he wandered on, debating whether he should just go back to the ship or make his way to the nearest brothel. However, as he passed an alley, he was stopped short.

“Arthur?” said a voice, one which sounded familiar. Instinctively, Arthur turned, peering into the shadows. There was definitely someone standing in the alley. After a pause, they moved, coming into the moonlight and revealing…

“Alfred?!” Arthur exclaimed, glad that the night’s various revelries would drown out his voice. “How did you-? What are you-?” Giving up on words, Arthur made an aborted gesture at Alfred, dressed in fine clothes once again, before pressing his lips together. He didn’t want Alfred to know that his heart was beating wildly, that he was glad Alfred wasn’t dead, that he hated seeing him there, that he hoped Alfred had come for him.

Somehow, his response made Alfred’s wary expression change. All of a sudden, he was beaming at Arthur, wide and delighted. “The last time we met, you didn’t look fazed by anything either of us said. I’m glad I can still surprise you, like I used to.”

Unable to think beyond the impossibility of him being there, Arthur’s mind took a while to catch up with events. It felt as if his thoughts were going in every direction and he soon remembered the conversation he had heard in the tavern. “Did you… Did you really leave Mac’eria again to find something you’ve lost?” Realisation dawned on him and Arthur frowned, ready to turn on his heel and leave. “Did you come back for your sword?”

“Huh?” said Alfred, tilting his head. “What are you talking about?”

“The _prophecy_ , Alfred. Don’t be an idiot.”

“‘The pro-’ Oh!” Alfred brightened. “The one where it says I get lost.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “It says you ‘are lost’. And then you go looking for something that you ‘lost’.”

For a moment, Alfred considered it. Then, grinning, he darted forward and grabbed Arthur’s wrist. The pirate captain had let his guard down in his shock and could do nothing but stumble after him, drawn into the alley where the only light was a flickering lantern partway down the tiny street. As he followed Alfred, Arthur remembered their childhood, how Alfred would drag him away from the docks or whatever he was doing to show him something else he’d found in the city. A flickering sense of joy flooded Arthur, much as it had when they were younger, and it pained him to know that he would end up hurting again when Alfred left for home once more.

Halfway down the street, where they were still visible to each other in the dim light, Alfred stopped and turned to him. Arthur expected him to let go of his wrist but, instead, Alfred took hold of it with his other hand, too. “I did come looking for something I’d lost. It might have been my own fault but I had to find it again.”

“Your sword?” Arthur prompted, trying to ignore the tight sensation in his chest.

“I can get a sword any time,” Alfred said, dismissively.

“Then what are you-?” Arthur’s eyes widened as he landed on the one possible thing that Alfred could want in this city where pirates and hooligans were abound. “Did you come all this way… to get your revenge on me?” Arthur demanded, his free hand going to the hilt of his sword. Since it wasn’t his dominant hand, Arthur knew it would be difficult to draw quickly. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try, when the time for violence came.

“No, Arthur, listen to me,” said Alfred, his grip tightening on Arthur’s hand. “I mean, sure I was angry and upset that you, of all people, marooned me on an island surrounded by whirlpools. Though,” Alfred added, gaze turning thoughtful, “I suppose I was also impressed that your men managed to guide the ship through it all to get to it. Anyway, I was angry but more so because you didn’t bother coming to see me after the day you told me… well, everything.

“See, I’d had a lot of time to think and there were a lot of things I wanted to tell you. I wanted to have a calmer conversation. I’m not sure if you told your men not to bother you with requests to see you or not but I asked the boy… Peter, right? Your cabin boy. I asked him every time he turned up to tell you that I wanted to see you, to talk to you. But you never appeared and Peter only shrugged when I asked him why that was.”

“What’s your _point_ , Alfred,” Arthur snapped, jerking at his hand to try to free it.

“Well, it made me determined to find you. So I made a raft and hoped for the best-”

“What?!” exclaimed Arthur, stopping his attempts to get free. “A raft?!” Nobody had ever tried to sail those waters on such a flimsy vessel!

“Yeah…” Alfred’s smile, which hadn’t left his face, turned sheepish. “It didn’t turn out well. But I did get past the whirlpools, at least! And then some other pirates picked me up…”

Arthur tensed, knowing full well what other pirates could be like. “They… What did they…?”

“Don’t worry,” said Alfred, his smile becoming fond again. “They only made me work for passage. Then wouldn’t let me go when we made port, and continued to work me to the bone. But I didn’t mind - I was able to find out about places I might find you. And I heard stories about you, too…”

Snorting, Arthur returned to his task of trying to get free of Alfred’s grip, though he knew it was a half-hearted attempt. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I want to, though.” Alfred grinned at him. “I thought you were going around being horrible to everyone because I…” Alfred paused to grimace. “Because I’d shattered your trust in people or something. But then I heard that you don’t kill people unnecessarily. You barely attack places, only other pirate ships or naval vessels searching for you. When I got back home, I discovered that every noble you’d dragged down to the docks had been found unconscious but unharmed. Thank you.”

Despite his best efforts, Arthur blushed, giving up for the moment on his escape. “What…? Why would you…?”

“Why would I look for you?” Alfred suggested. Bewildered, Arthur nodded. “Because you have something I lost, long ago.”

“Something of yours?” Arthur echoed, blinking at him. “I only have your sword and I _took_ tha-”

“You said, back on your ship, that I’d stolen your heart,” Alfred explained, not letting Arthur finish. “And maybe I did. But I lost you, all those years ago.”

Arthur choked on a short laugh. “Me?!”

His surprise made Alfred laugh, a lovely, sweet thing that made Arthur’s breath catch. “Yes, you.” He reached up with one hand to brush his fingers along Arthur’s cheek, flicking a lock of hair out of the way. “You were - you _are_ \- my best friend. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since they day we met. And then I lost you. And…” Alfred paused, took a breath and ploughed ahead. “Do you know why I was to marry Lili?”

Embarrassed and off-balanced, Arthur shook his head slightly. “A… A political-”

“Exactly,” said Alfred, his expression becoming pained. “My parents wanted me to marry for love, held loads of balls and parties and invited everyone in the kingdom and people from beyond it. But I couldn’t fall in love.”

“Why not…?” Arthur breathed, hardly daring to hope.

With a cheeky grin, Alfred declared, “Because I’d lost my heart to you. That’s why I’m here,” he added, “to see if you’ll give me it back.”

Staring at him in shock at his boldness (though, really, he should have remembered how forthcoming Alfred was), Arthur had to take a moment to gather his wits. Did Alfred really…? But the prince looked serious, his eyes burning with a determination Arthur was somewhat familiar with. There was no way Arthur could doubt his words; they seemed to lift some sort of weight from him, making him feel as if he’d float away, still breathless. However, his words still took some time to sink in and Arthur merely stared for long enough that Alfred began to blush. Arthur could see his reddening cheeks and watched the colour spread, somewhat in awe that he’d made Alfred react like that.

Finally, he managed to catch his breath and could speak, forcing himself under control, despite his own pink cheeks. “No,” he said, smirking when Alfred’s smile fell in his shock. “I’m a pirate - I don’t give back the things I steal. Besides,” he added as he pulled his hand from Alfred’s suddenly slack grip, “you still have mine so it’s a fair exchange.”

The grin slowly reappeared on Alfred’s face. “Really?” he asked.

“Hm. Come on.” Arthur beckoned him as he turned. “There’s only a handful of men on the ship and they won’t disturb us if I ask them not to. I think we need to talk about this.” He paused and held out his hand. “Don’t get lost.”

“Why would I?” Alfred asked, teasingly. He grabbed hold of Arthur’s offered hand, holding it tight. “You’re the one stealing me away, after all.”

Arthur shook his head at the joke, heart lifting. He knew there would be a lot to discuss and that they’d actually have to say those three words but, for now, he was deliriously happy. For the first time in years, he had the person he most loved with him. Captain Kirkland was sure that, once they’d gotten things sorted out, they’d be able to treasure each other for the rest of their lives.


End file.
